


harry and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

by orphan_account



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blowjobs, Cisco Living His Best Life On E2, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, M/M, Sarcastic Loving Care, but no spoilers, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry has a bad day at work. Cisco makes him feel better.





	harry and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

**Author's Note:**

> this is for every anon who's messaged me about harry being a disaster that just wants cisco to sit on his face and never leave, but more specifically this is for sunny who always sends me happy things when i'm having a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day 💖💖💖

Harry wants to kick his front door in. Put his boot through it and feel something crack crack pop and imagine his COO’s face while his skin splinters. He knows how satisfying it is to break something solid after a day as hell raising as the one he's finished gritting his jaw through.

But Harry's feet remain firmly on the ground as he grunts through his entryway, arms full with the coffee tumbler he's dropped five times already and at least 50 pounds of paperwork his slowly healing brain still needs Jesse and Cisco to help him process. Kicking things is not a productive way of dealing with irritation. Harry knows this.

He's listened to his daughter and his therapist and his love enough that words about working through his frustration in healthier ways echo in his head. Right now, though, they do little to calm his raw bitten nerves.

The scent of Cisco's enchiladas - one of the four dishes Cisco can make without burning - envelopes Harry as he unloads the weight of the world on the entry table. His eyes drift without direction and he inhales, chasing a memory of Cisco's cologne, searching out the calm of him on instinct.

Unfortunately, the promise of love cooked dinner and Cisco's warm, clean skin distracts Harry from properly piling the business bullshit.

“Fuck off,” Harry spits at the now toppling pile of folders. He reacts with as much speed as his limbs allow, but his arms went noodle stupid from clenching his fists during meetings, and all he can do is flex his angry fingers while papers slide to the floor.

Harry stares in defeat at the pile that fucking mocks him. Of course this is how Cisco finds him.

“Oh, baby."

Harry lifts his gaze to Cisco, swaddled in one of Harry's soft old t shirts and sweatpants stamped with a Supreme logo that Harry still doesn't understand but doesn't regret dropping an obscene amount of E2 money on. Cisco's hair is wrapped in a damp, messy bun on top of his head. He looks like _home_ and Harry wants to bury himself in it as much as he's wanted anything.

Cisco's mouth slacks into a tempting pout as he moves to gather Harry in his arms. “Did someone have a bad day?” 

“The worst day anyone has ever had,” Harry grumbles, but his words lose truth when Cisco hugs him harder. Harry's arms curl automatically around Cisco's waist and he presses his cheek against Cisco's hair, breathing in the coolness and scent of Cisco's shampoo.

Cisco doesn't offer any other teasing sympathies. He's watched Harry yank at his hair and shake with the urge to throw heavy objects at peoples heads and relearn how to be a cutthroat CEO even if he can't be the genius he once was. And each time Harry unravels, Cisco is there with sweet, strong hands, carefully urging him back together. Palms slide over Harry's back, coaxing tension after tension to softness, until Harry can feel his body unlocking. Harry lets himself melt.

“You wanna tell me all about it?” Cisco asks softly. “I made dinner. We can eat on the couch and plan all your lead team members murders for annoying you so much today. Or we can just watch TV. Whatever you want.”

Cisco sweetens the offer by feathering an open mouthed kiss to Harry's throat. The soft and warm and good of the pleasure uncoils in Harry's stomach. His fingers curl into Cisco's hair, clutching at comfort, while he tilts his head, greedy for more.

He feels Cisco smile against him. “I'll pick up your papers for you, if you wanna go sit. I already poured your drink.” 

“Fuck the papers. It's all proposals for things I don't understand and contracts for people who don't deserve them.” Harry slips his hands to the small of Cisco's back. It always feels so good to touch Cisco here, like the flesh is dipped and warmed just for Harry. “I hate everyone there. I hate everyone but Jesse and you.”

“That's not true,” Cisco laughs against Harry's earlobe. Another iron vein of tension bleeds away at the sound. “You don't hate the girl at Big Belly Burger who gives you extra chicken nuggets.” 

“She has ulterior motives.”

Another laugh. Harry is going to complain more, but his words curl away as Cisco eases blunt fingernails over his skull. Harry shivers looser, nuzzling against Cisco's hair.

“Soft kitty,” Cisco teases, but there's no bait in it. Cisco does make him soft. Cisco makes everything soft, and good, and bright. “Come on, handsome. Last time you texted you said you still hadn't eaten.”

“Everyone kept interrupting my lunch. Then I dropped it trying to go from the cafeteria to my office." Harry lets Cisco take his hand, lead him through the entry hall to the casual family room. “And a pigeon attacked my breakfast. And fucking Sanderson - ” 

“Was about to go into a diabetic coma and you had to give him your last granola bar. You're a hero, Harry.” 

“I should've let him go into a coma.”

Harry settles on the couch. Cisco kisses the top of his head. He wants to sink into the cushions, pull Cisco in his arms, and sleep until the human race evolves into something generally less obnoxious. Instead he watches as Cisco carries two plates of ambrosia into the room, setting them on the coffee table.

“If you did that, they might fire you, and you wouldn't be able to keep me up in the lifestyle I've become accustomed to.” 

Harry is going to quip something lazy; joke that maybe Cisco should be the one buying expensive sweats while Harry spends his days lounging in them. He thinks better of it. It's taken Cisco this long to realize that with Harry and Jesse at his side, he can be a hero and a man and part of a family that needs him. He can have whatever he wants. All he has to do is figure out what that is.

Cisco knows the pride that weighs Harry full at being the one to help Cisco solve this puzzle, but Cisco still goes quiet at dinner sometimes. There's still a whisper in him. Harry can hear it in the ugly parts of his own mind. Something that says all the flutter smiles are hollow and eventually the castle walls will crash. Harry has learned what triggers Cisco's insecurity flares. 

“You know I'll trade healthy blood pressure for you to keep living your trophy husband fantasy as long as you want to live it.” Harry makes eye contact while he says it, sincere, and Cisco grins the grin that makes not telling his staff to go fuck themselves worth it.

Cisco settles next to him, close enough to settle in Harry's shadows, and presses the drink he poured into Harry's hands. The liquor  loosens Harry's throat, kept tight all day to keep his annoyance from erupting at pen click Penny and the project team who all chew with their mouths open at the cafeteria.

Then Cisco is brushing more kisses over him. One to his jaw, his neck, a gentle nip at his shoulder. Harry unclenches muscles he didn't realize he was clenching and sinks into the cushions.

“I'll rub your shoulders while you eat,” Cisco says. It's a wholesome promise that settles absolutely filthy on the skin of Harry's neck. “And you can vent about every dumb thing that happened today. We even have ice cream for dessert.” 

Cisco kisses his way back to Harry's ear, unspooling Harry's irritation, replacing it with warmth, with every soft pleasure. The next exhalation breathes Harry's skin back to life, spreading goosebumps down his arms and spine. His aching brain melts just the same. Every grating voice, every stupid comment that it physically hurt to respond to patiently (because Harry is patient now), every insect buzz of irritation, begins to fade into white noise against Cisco's brown skin.

“That sounds not terrible,” Harry sighs. He lets his temple bump against Cisco's hair and doesn't even mind the cold damp. “You took a shower without me.” 

Harry's definitely not pouting about it, because he's a grown man. Cisco laughs at him anyway, but it's all cashmere, warm toned like the cardigans Cisco picked on their last retail therapy session. 

“I just wanted to be all nice and soft for you.” Cisco noses against him and Harry can barely muster the energy to be disappointed that he missed Cisco naked and wet. Harry is going to say as much, is going to breathe thanks for the goodsoftperfect of Cisco calming his bones into something human again, when Cisco's lips find his ear. “And I was thinking…”

Harry tilts into the heat and sweet of Cisco's mouth. “That usually bodes well for me.”

Cisco grins, a shade more conscious than confident, and Harry's muscle memory clenches his belly hot.

Harry knows that look. 

Harry loves that look.

“When we're done with dessert, we can do the thing you like.” Cisco's cheek is warm against Harry's own as he says it. “How does that sound?”

Harry's axis tilts. He tilts, bringing his body as close to Cisco's as he can, which isn't close enough. Inside of Cisco isn't close enough sometimes. But Harry takes what's offered with all the hunger in his belly, catching Cisco's cheeks between his palms, pressing too hard for Cisco's softness, and devours Cisco's mouth the same way he's going to devour the rest of him.

There are lots of things Harry likes. Most Cisco related things are things Harry likes. _The_ thing is a thing he loves. A thing he fucking aches for.

He feels himself flush as Cisco's tongue fills his mouth and Cisco's promise fills his head. He grows fat and thick and hungry in the slacks he's started resenting. It's been weeks since Cisco let him settle between thick muscle thighs and glut himself. He's been patient. He hasn't stammered or slurred or just broke down and said Ramon, for the love of fuck, please come sit on his face.

He's wanted to. And it's not that Cisco isn't into it. Cisco told him last time, panting and sweat slicked, smiling sheepish as if spit wasn't dripping down his own chin from when he'd sucked Harry's remaining sense through his dick, that it was less awkward. He just still didn't know what to do with his hands.

It's the vulnerability of the position, Harry thinks, sliding his tongue along Cisco's lips while Cisco grasps his biceps between sharp fingers. Cisco compared it to a trust fall, once. He has to trust himself not to crush Harry, but Harry doesn't mind being crushed. He doesn't mind gasping for air if he's breathing Cisco instead.

“Harry - you have to eat first.” Cisco says it, gasps it, but he doesn't stop Harry's right hand from sliding between his legs.

Harry hooks his fingers under the waistband of Cisco's sweats. “Not hungry.”

Cisco grasps Harry by the wrist, but doesn't push him away. Harry stops pulling at the fabric and a different kind of frustration flares through him. It burns the boredom of board meetings and fake smiles away, leaving the restless that only working Cisco to a perfect, whining mess can cure.

“You texted me seven times today. You told me you dropped your sandwich in all caps. You never use all caps.”

Harry bites Cisco's bottom lip. Cisco makes a sound caught between a huff and a whimper, annoyed with Harry and wanting him at the same time, the way only Cisco can manage. Harry kisses his way to Cisco's exposed collar, peeking out between his t-shirt.

“Not hungry for enchiladas.”

“Don't be gross.” But Cisco is laughing, kissing him back, touching him back. Harry pulls away enough to watch Cisco lick his bottom lip. “Are you sure you don't wanna wait? You've gotta be starving.”

“I am.” 

Cisco rolls his eyes. Still can't stop his grin. “Isn't your libido supposed to go down when you hit 70?” 

Harry grins back, easy. “Let me take these off.”

“You don't wanna go to the bedroom?”

“I told you.” Harry kisses Cisco, deep then deeper, and slips his palms under Cisco's legs. squeezing. “I'm starving.” 

They kiss through Cisco maneuvering himself to his feet. Harry groans when Cisco's fingers knot into his hair, holding him taut. Cisco's tongue rests wet on his fat bottom lip and Harry feels his hunger pangs twist.

“Take your pants off too.”

Harry does. It takes him longer, but it gives him the opportunity to watch Cisco shift on his feet, half hard and all need even though Harry's barely touched him. Harry bites his own lip in an effort not to surge forward and sink his teeth through Cisco's closest softness.

Once Harry is situated, Cisco looks him over, wets his mouth, wants.

“Come on, Cisco. Come make me feel better.”

Cisco doesn't hesitate. He does breathe, “Close your eyes,” because something about the act of climbing over Harry's panting tongue still makes Cisco's cheeks heat. Harry is absolutely thrilled by it.

He waits with clenched fists as Cisco settles his knees above his shoulders. The heat of Cisco's thighs presses against his jaw and Harry's hands move on their own, hungry. He palms Cisco's ass to the sound of Cisco's heavy breath, then presses his fingers into Cisco's hip bones, using the grip to urge Cisco to rest more of his weight on his legs, on Harry.

Once Cisco stills, Harry lifts his neck in the most awkward angle to press a kiss to the dip of Cisco's lower back. Cisco sighs. Harry does it again, and again, moving lower as he drags his open mouth over the swell of Cisco's ass.

He does look, then, because it's allowed now. Brown sugar skin makes up his vision. He can see Cisco using one hand to grip the couch back, the other to grip the couch arm. Part of him wishes Cisco would let go, let Harry hold him up. The other part of him twists hot at the sight of Cisco's arched back and the way the position gives him plenty of room to spread Cisco wide for the taking.

The scent of Cisco's body wash and skin are a weight on Harry's tongue. His eyes flutter closed again. His thoughts go soft, quiet. His body is just his mouth in moments like this, just the sensation of dragging his tongue flat over the closest flex of Cisco's skin. He listens for Cisco to breathe ragged, and when he does, Harry sucks a mouthful of that cinnamon between his teeth.

He doesn't bite hard. Not as hard as he wants. Just enough to make Cisco rock back into the sensation. A wet pop echoes when he releases Cisco to admire the red mark he's painted. He mouths a few more spit cherry circles into Cisco's skin before squeezing a palmful of skin. Cisco hisses high pitched. It's not a sound of pain.

Harry feels his own pleasure twitch, and he knows Cisco sees it. Knows Cisco wants to bend and give Harry just as much of his mouth, make Harry feel just as good. Instead Cisco stays in place, only moving to give Harry more, so god damn good and just to give Harry a better day. Harry can't help but take advantage.

His fingers slide back into the groove between Cisco's hips and thighs. He hooks his nails in just as deep as it takes to make Cisco moan, then squeezes, urges Cisco to press himself to Harry's panting mouth. And Cisco, perfect as he is, lets Harry pull him.

He presses a kiss to Cisco, right where he's softest, pinkest, wettest. Then he kisses Cisco again, and again, until the only thing aching in his head is how fucking good Cisco tastes, how fucking good it feels to have the weight of Cisco surrounding him. Cisco's legs pressing against his jaw, his shoulders, coax the remaining stress from his pores. There's no room for anything but want.

When Cisco pants and aches into the next kiss, Harry stops teasing both of them.

The first swipe of his tongue between Cisco's skin is always the best. Always better than Harry remembers. Cisco is carmel smooth and tastes like Harry's favorite everything. Harry could lick at Cisco until his tongue went numb, until his jaw ached, then keep going, if Cisco would let him.

But that's too much to ask, even from Cisco, who has shown Harry infinite grace and patience.

Harry licks a filthy wet stripe between Cisco's cheeks, over his back. Cisco mutters a curse and shudders above him. He bites the swell of Cisco's ass then breathes, “Touch yourself.”

“I can't - ” Harry cuts him off by dragging his tongue flat over Cisco's hole. “Fuck, Harry, I can't hold myself up with one hand.” 

“Then don't.”

Cisco tries to say something else, but Harry uses his grip on Cisco's hip bones to pull Cisco further into his tongue. He wills Cisco to let go. Lean on him, overwhelm him, let him be the one keeping Cisco sturdy while he fucks Cisco into a mess.

“Gonna crush you,” Cisco whines.

Harry sucks at the thin skin around Cisco's hole, sliding his hands, palming at Cisco's ass with one while the other finds the aching underside of Cisco's dick. Harry's own throbs hungry between his legs.

“I'll touch you,” Harry tempts. “Just lean back on me.”

Cisco curses under his breath but gives in. It delights Harry the way it always does. He groans into the way Cisco rocks back, settling more weight on top of him, making his lungs work overtime. No other thought or rage or want can breathe when he's breathing Cisco like this.

He wraps a firm grip around Cisco's cock and presses his tongue as deep as Cisco's body will let him. Half of him wishes Cisco could reach him in this position, jack him off in time with his own hand and jaw. He knows it will only take the warmth of Cisco's body and breath to come.

But he isn't ready, not quite yet. He wants to lose himself in Cisco's taste and sounds until he can't find his way out.

Cisco starts saying his name. High pitched and desperate, Harry's favorite. He flicks his tongue over Cisco faster, adds more pressure, fills Cisco deeper. Cisco grasps his wrist and Harry groans at the feeling of strong, clever fingers over his pulse.

He lets Cisco direct the speed and pressure. Lets Cisco fuck his fist while he licks Cisco sloppy and open. Wishes he could see Cisco from every angle, like this, although he can at least picture Cisco's slack jawed pleasure clearly. Cisco's face always twists the same. Mouth open in a wet pink “oh”, eyes closed, lashes kissing his hot cheeks, hair like black silk flowing.

That brain burned image drives Harry groaning. He gets the hand not pumping Cisco's dick on the small of Cisco's back and pushes, practically begging Cisco to ride the slide of his tongue. Cisco finally answers, rocking his hips back to meet Harry's working jaw.

He can feel Cisco's thighs begin to shake, tremble from the position and crescendo lust. Cisco makes a heady noise and pulls Harry's hand from his dick to his mouth. Harry echoes the sound back when Cisco spits on his palm then licks his fingers, soaking his hand, before Cisco moves it back.

Harry jacks Cisco slick and quick. His tongue works desperate. His own chin is dripping and he revels in the thick of it, the sticky wet that heats him to the bone. Sloppy sounds bounce off the wall and roar in his ears. He twists his own hips into nothing, needing.

“Faster, baby, I’m - ”

He goes faster, groaning to give Cisco what he needs. And it's all he needs. The tell tale, deep chest moan of Cisco's orgasm spills. Harry feels Cisco's dick twitch in his hand then the warm mess of come shooting over his stomach. His abs flutter under the heat and his tongue flutters in his open, panting mouth, licking Cisco through the last shudders.

Cisco doesn't waste any time. He pushes himself from the couch arm, curving his body forward, dipping until his kiss bitten lips are pressed to Harry's ribs. A shiver wrecks Harry's spine as he feels Cisco's tongue slip over him, lapping the come from his belly until he can't take the tease and presses the tips of his fingers to Cisco's skull.

He manages to open his eyes, only to have them slam shut at the picture in front of him. The way Cisco is bent, Harry has the perfect view of his ass, still red from Harry's teeth, still slick from Harry's spit. Harry palms clumsily at the picture.

Harry doesn't realize he's lifted his neck to see it all better until Cisco licks his cock. His head bounces off the couch at the whiplash pleasure. Cisco doesn't notice, focused on sucking the head of his dick. Harry says his name like a plea and Cisco answers by swallowing him down, root to tip, deep enough to choke.

Harry almost chokes at the sensation. Cisco's mouth is wet heat, tight on his skin, more than enough to coax Harry's pleasure to the surface. The high of Cisco riding his tongue already has him plastered to the brink.

All he needs is all Cisco gives him. He squeezes handfuls of Cisco's ass, probably too hard, probably hard enough to leave more red, but Cisco doesn't stop sucking him. Cisco sucks harder, in fact, hollowing his cheeks, moving fast then faster.

“That's it,” Harry encourages, pushing at Cisco even though he knows Cisco can't possibly take him deeper. He drags the blunt of his nails over the swell of Cisco's skin as he gets closer. Cisco moans.

That's all it takes. Harry watching himself scratch color into Cisco's thighs, hearing the sound of Cisco's own enjoyment, feeling Cisco's smart mouth work around him. His hips jack hammer up and Cisco takes it, just takes it, and it's enough to undo him.

Cisco sucks him through his orgasm and past it, until he's shaking, until he has nothing left to give and the kitten licks of Cisco's tongue lapping at his cock head feels like sandpaper.

He slaps Cisco's thigh, no really energy in it because he has none. But Cisco is merciful. He crawls uncoordinated and sloth like until he's sitting at Harry's side. He’s a mess; lips shining fat, hair swept wild, sweat and spit coating him. Harry wants to kiss him breathless until they're both too tired to move, but Cisco will only whine and twist his head.

Instead Harry pants. He moves one palm to Cisco's cheek, and when Cisco does the same, he presses into the touch, closing his eyes.

Cisco breathes heavily, almost laughing. “You really do love that, huh.”

“You taste good,” Harry says as explanation. He doesn't open his eyes, just pushes further into Cisco's hand.

He can practically hear Cisco roll his eyes, fond. Cisco's voice is soft when he bends down, though, brushing a kiss to Harry's forehead. “So does that mean you're having a better day?”

“Of course,” Harry says, maneuvering until he gets his arms around Cisco's waist, resting his head on Cisco's chest. He sighs into Cisco's fingers running through his hair. “Best day ever.”


End file.
